


Illusion of Home

by AliceGoHome



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceGoHome/pseuds/AliceGoHome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He read the outlines of her lips as she spoke, feeling his heart wrench in his chest. Three short syllables. Three short syllables that would destroy him forever." Chuck Hansen x Jazmine Becket oneshot. X-posted to Tumblr and FF.Net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illusion of Home

  
**Author's Note** : _I don't write fanfiction very often at all, but I must admit that I've been pretty smitten by "Pacific Rim". Chuck is one of my favourite characters, and for whatever reason, I really like the idea of him being paired off with Raleigh and Yancy's younger sister, Jazmine. It's probably the irony of it, haha._

_So yeah. A bit of tasteful Chuck x Jazmine smut and some character study on the side. Standard warnings apply. Spoilers, M/F smut (don't like it, don't read it), etc. Takes place immediately before the events of the film. Chuck may be a celebrity/elite Jaeger pilot, but underneath all of his hardassed-ness he strikes me as a rather vulnerable, insecure character. Very human. It's one of the things I really enjoyed about him. I'd like to believe that the basis for this piece is the real reason he was so hard on Raleigh when they first met at the Shatterdome._

_I don't own "Pacific Rim" either... so hurry up and make that sequel already, del Toro. I'm not getting any younger. :P_  
  


* * *

**Illusion of Home**

  
If there was one thing that Chuck Hansen was certain of, it was that he hated Jazmine Becket. Almost as much as he hated his father.

But they say love and hate walk an extremely fine line from one another. A line that is sometimes blurred to the point where _precisely_ what it is becomes no less than indistinguishable.

A numb, defeated sort of smirk tugged at one of the corners of his lips, the only noise around him the distant humming of engines and occasional footsteps passing by his closed door. He was thinking too much now, drawing parallels to his old man from this fucking girl who should have been little more than just another nobody to him.

Chuck had always wanted to love his father. Really, he did... but he just couldn't. There were times where would catch the old man looking at him, probably believing that Chuck hadn't bothered to take notice. It was never something overly blatant... It could have even been mistaken as nothing more than a passing glance by a stranger, but he knew better. There was a sort of resigned sadness to it. An unspoken yearning to be a father-- not just a co-pilot. On occasion, their eyes would meet, just for a moment. Herc's gaze would always falter though, usually drifting to the ground or setting off in a desperate search for some manner of distraction. There was no warmth, no words. The only safe path was one of silence.

At times Chuck would briefly second-guess himself, wondering if what he was doing was right. He would never speak it aloud... but he needed his father. Despite his regular ill treatment of Herc, the fact of the matter was that he'd been one of the only constant things in Chuck's life up until then. He even knew how his own boy felt about him... and yet he _still_ tried, for a bond that he would most likely never obtain. Regardless, he couldn't just change now. Any chance for that had long since passed. All of the things that Herc hadn't said and all the things he hadn't done... the roots of resentment had advanced far too deep to salvage the relationship. This was the same man who let his mother, _his own wife_ , die. And to Chuck, there was no room in his heart for forgiveness on that matter.

He could never love his father. The same way that he could never love Jazmine Becket.

Running a hand through his short, reddish blonde locks, Chuck sat silently at the edge of his bed, dazedly examining the metallic surface of the floor. It was late; well past midnight in fact. He felt as though he'd been waiting for a small eternity. A solid knock at his door yanked him from his mulling and back into reality with a start. Hastily, he pried himself from where he'd been perched, his steps heavy, seeming almost eager to open the door that separated himself and the stranger.

The dull sound of creaking metal gave way to the sight of a woman with long, brownish hair standing poised in his door way. She was a couple of years his junior, soft blue eyes trained unwavering on his own. Chuck felt himself making the motions to say something, but found that he could not speak. _Jesus_ , it had only a been a little over a day since he'd seen her last, but he couldn't help but notice just how gorgeous she was-- as though it were the first time he'd laid eyes on her all over again.

"... cannn I come in?"

The doe-eyed, almost sultry look that she'd worn previously had been replaced by a sort of quizzical look, one thin eyebrow arched and her full pink lips pursed questioningly. Or maybe that had been the look she'd been giving him the entire time and he just failed to notice. He wasn't sure.

Chuck ceased his admiring of her, dumbly raising one hand up to nervously scratch at the back of his head. "Oh, yeah, yeah. Come in."

"Thanks" she quipped airly, striding past him confidently and plopping down onto the edge of his cot where he'd been sitting prior to her arrival. Chuck pulled the heavy metal door shut once again, fastening the deadbolt into place and then turning the face the girl on his bed. An awkward silence swept over the room, the two of them merely exchanging stares, both hoping for the other to talk first.

"So.. eh.. how did it go?" Chuck was the first to give up, finding the the silence was making him increasingly uncomfortable. He already knew what she was going to tell him, but he thought he'd still try.

"It's, you know-- " _non-negotiable_." Her voice deepened sarcastically for the last word in the sentence, giving her best mocking impression of Marshall Pentecost.

"Hah, yeah. I figured he'd say something like that..." Chuck shifted his weight from one foot the other other, strong arms crossing defiantly over his equally toned chest while giving a small roll of his eyes to no one in particular. His feigned confidence gradually crumbled though as another draft of silence overtook them, and his eyes cast downwards onto the floor. That was not the answer he'd been hoping to hear, but the one he knew he was going to get.

It was a long while before she spoke. Minutes even.

"So... I guess that means that I'll be leaving the base in the morning at 0600 hours." The girl tried her best to look at Chuck with a straight expression on her face, but he could easily detect the gloom in her voice masked by a stoic facade.

Chuck Hansen was many things. Egotistical, a smart ass, an elite ranger, but he was not stupid.

"Like hell you will." He snapped, shooting her a fierce look and straightening his posture rigidly. The fierce expression that contorted his handsome features softened a bit upon seeing the surprise on her face, though it remained stern.

"I'm not doing this because I want to, _Chuck_. Orders are orders. You know that.." The surprise had all but dissipated from her face and was replaced by a look of discontentment, perhaps even slight annoyance. "They want my brother here, _not me_. The Marshall says that he has a plan, so if there's any chance of--"

"Man, fuck what the Marshall says, Jaz!" Chuck spat angrily, moving towards her violently now. He was reacting purely on instinct, his thoughts flowing out of his mouth about as easily as they'd entered his head. "What can he possibly try that he hasn't tried already? What are we supposed to do? Just keep.. clinging to life while those fucking monsters keep tearing us apart? We're not living anymore, we're merely _surviving_. And who knows just how long that can last either?"

Now it was Jazmine's turn to be unhappy with the answer that she'd received. In the blink of an eye, she was up off the bed to meet him, gripping savagely at the collar of his fitted shirt. "So you think that doing NOTHING is going to help either? **_Well_**?" She was inches from his face, shaking the fabric of his top to better illustrate her point. Irritation flashed in her bright blue eyes and venom laced her voice, their body language akin to two men sizing one another up in a bar over some broad.

"Fuck, I don't know..!" His gaze immediately darted away, trying his best to sound sharp and assertive but somehow failing miserably. He didn't make any sort of move to pull away or retaliate though, allowing her to bunch his clothing up angrily in her small trembling fist. Jazmine simply continued to glare daggers at him, finally releasing her hold on his shirt with a single rough gesture. "Look, there's nothing I can do.." The youngest Becket sibling crossed her arms brashly and turned to face away from him, doing what she could to curb her rage.

"... Jaz, I--"

Chuck stopped as quickly as he'd begun. He wasn't sure what he was saying anymore. It didn't even matter. Nothing could make the situation any better. In the morning she would be gone, and being the pilot of one of the last remaining Jaegers in the service, he would probably never see her again. Not unless by some miracle the war were to come to an end... which was not going to happen.

She knew all of this, and yet it was truly astounding to him how she seemed to have so much more control over her emotions regarding the situation than he did.

Again, _silence_.

He let out a heavy, laboured sigh, burying his face in his hands and pivoting away as well, beginning to pace back and forth. Feeling this way.. it was ruining him. He disliked feeling anything, really. _So why did she have to fucking do this to him? Didn't she know... that he would do... **anything** for her?_

But she would never ask that of him. She wasn't that selfish. Or foolish.

And he hated her-- he _hated_ her for it. With ever fiber of his being.

Clearly lost in his own tangle of thoughts Chuck had failed to hear her approach him. When he finally turned back to face her, she was just a few steps shy of him once more, but this time, her demeanor was quite different. Tender.

 _And almost... sad_?

The deeply ingrained scowl on his face vanished seeing this. Even he could reason that there would have been little point in being upset with her right now, and tonight of all nights. Jazmine gingerly outstretched her arm, slowly resting her soft pale hand upon his lightly stubbled cheek. The initial feel of her cool skin against his sent a jolt through his body, causing him to go tense.. His muscles relaxed almost instantly though, melting into her caress, helplessly.

He wanted her.

And she didn't skip a beat.

Jazmine leaned forward, angling herself upwards ever so slightly to press her lips sweetly against his, as she'd done so many times before. He didn't need to be told what to do. Chuck reciprocated hungrily and the kiss quickly turned savage; urgent-- his rough hands snaking under the material of the top she wore and massaging the small of her back.

His ministrations were spiked with desire, tugging viciously now to free her breasts from her top as she worked with equal haste and fervor at his pants, fumbling to undo the buckle on his belt. She finally broke their kiss, desperate for air, having at last won the battle against his belt as she proceeded to free him from his trousers. Her blue eyes were smoldering with lust and something else that the ranger couldn't quite identify. Something foreign to him...

All the mattered right now though was the way her lithe, dexterous fingers were wrapping themselves around his already throbbing erection. He groaned quietly, moving back to give her better access to him. The Australian boy's length was pulsating eagerly in her hand, knowing all too well what was to come next.

"God, I need you, Jaz.." he seethed lustfully, gazing down at her. Jazmine offered a small smile, pushing Chuck, who was barely half clothed, backwards onto the bed. She took a moment to remove her own pants while he in turn tossed his shirt into some dark, forgotten corner of the room, advancing slowly and deliberately towards him once she'd finished disrobing.

"I know, Chuck..." Her voice was barely a whisper as she slid onto the mattress next to him. "Don't worry. I'm here."

A fleeting twinge of pain surged through him hearing her words. Fuck it. He didn't want to think about anything right now. He only wanted to be close to her.

She carefully swung one leg over him, mounting her lover with passionate anticipation. Her soft brown hair sloped gracefully over the curves of her breasts, ending just before where her smooth, taut stomach began. He was propped up on his elbows, eyes heavy with need for the beautiful American girl positioned on top of him. With little hesitation she reached down between them, grasping him firmly in her hand and proceeding to guide his member into her, inch by agonizing inch.

"F-fuck.." Chuck muttered deliriously, letting his back hit the soft surface of the mattress and his hands instinctively finding her hips and gripping them, hard. The female pilot remained perfectly still, sighing sweetly at the feeling of his thickness being seated inside of her. Unable to tolerate any further delay, Chuck snapped his hips upwards aggressively, earning a surprised yelp from the Becket girl. He repeated this motion again, and again, watching her supple chest bounce with each movement the couple made. His motions transitioned into a solid rhythm, still gripping her hips possessively and thrusting up into her waiting heat while she would press downwards each time to meet him. She rode him almost violently, relishing the delicious friction being created between the two of them and holding back breathy moans as she was impaled over and over again.

Wanting more, Chuck reluctantly plucked her from his length, laying her down flat on her back. In an instant he was on top of her, hooking her legs around his sides and re-establishing their connection in one fluid thrust. "Oh..!" Jazmine squeaked, her hands tracing the flexing muscles of his arms before winding her own around his neck. His thrusts were deep and drawn out, bending down to place a small kiss on her neck as she clung to him in desperation.

" _Chuck_.."

Her eyes were half lidded and her voice came as a gasp. A powerful surge of possessiveness rippled though him upon hearing her utter his name. His pace increased as a result, pounding into her furiously now to the point where he found that his arms had begun to shake from exertion.

The next thing she'd said caught him off guard though. Staring down at her affectionately, he could just barely make out what she was saying as it was little more than a whisper. He read the outlines of her lips as she spoke, feeling his heart wrench in his chest.

Three short syllables.

Three short syllables that would destroy him forever.

Everything around him went silent after that. A deafened sort of ringing reverberated through his ears and he shut his eyes for a moment. _Why the hell was she saying this? And right now_? He didn't want to feel this way. Even from the time he'd first met her, since the first time they'd spoken, the first time he'd made her his... he told himself that he wouldn't let anyone else become important to him. Because Chuck knew-- life had a way of robbing people of the things most precious to them. Whether it be due to duty or circumstance, the people he loved most always left. It was a type of disappointment he didn't want to set himself up for ever again.

It was a battle that he had lost.

The Mark 5 pilot said nothing. Instead he merely leaned down to bury his face in the crook of her neck, never once letting up his carnal hammering into her all the while. Chuck inhaled her sweet scent, one hand extending upwards to gently stroke her hair while the other pulled her closer. He didn't want to look her in the eye. He couldn't. Otherwise she might have noticed the tears pricking at the corners of his own.

Jazmine writhed sensuosly underneath of him, crying out and arching her back when she felt Chuck brush against her cervix. Amidst her throes of ecstasy, she could feel several beads of moisture against her shoulder, sliding down the side of her arm and onto the bed. She wondered briefly to herself whether it was perspiration or something else entirely.. a notion that was abruptly dismissed when he kept hitting that sweet spot inside of her repeatedly.

"Oh, Jaz-- I'm gonna come" he managed raggedly, pulling her body into his. His thickly accented voice murmering hotly in her ear was like a slice of her own personal euphoria. The American's legs tightened around him now, feeling as though she would burst at any second. Chuck's body went rigid and his thrusts grew shallow and jagged. Gritting his teeth, he finally let go and came inside of her. A pleasured cry was torn from her in response. Jazmine's body clamped down on his length like a vice at the sensation of him pulsating through her, savoring the way he scorched her core.

He should have pulled out-- but he didn't. Right then, he didn't care. And something deep inside told him that she didn't either.

Neither of them said a thing-- both of their breathing uneven and heavy, faces flushed. Chuck's hold on the girl slowly diminished, moving away and rolling over to lay on his side, still refusing to look at her. What _could_ really be said? There was no point in pretending that things would be okay. No matter what he offered, in a few hours she was going to leave him. He remained still-- his breathing finally beginning to stabilize.

Jazmine glanced over at the clock on the wall which read almost 0300, and then diverted her gaze over to the man beside her. Silently, like a deer in the headlights, she watched as his form slowly rose and fell with each breath he drew. It went without saying that Chuck was never particularly open with his feelings.. quite the opposite in fact. There were plenty of folks who dismissed him as nothing more than some hot-shot egotistical prick, tripping off the fame of being an elite Mark 5 Jaeger pilot. Just another cocky kid who happened to have a bit of talent. That was probably what came easiest for most people. But she knew that there was more to him than that. She'd seen it herself. His bitter attitude was a defense mechanism. Something that would have been as clear as day to anyone who took the time to actually try to know him. His father realized it, and so did she. He was a good person. Just.. damaged. And unfortunately, beyond the point of repair.

He wasn't going to turn around any time soon.

Shifting from where she lay, Jazmine began to move in an effort to gather her scattered clothing, only to be detained by a strong hand grabbing onto her arm. She paused-- looking down to where he was still facing away from her. No words needed to be exchanged. Jazmine delicately moved back onto the bed, slipping the arm that had previously been in his grasp around his defined chest. His hand crept up to grasp her smaller one, gently threading her fingers with his.

They laid like that for quite some time, and on occasion, Jazmine could have sworn that she felt him shaking. If she moved to comfort him now, Chuck would only push her away. All she could do was hold him tighter, giving his hand a small squeeze, trying to tell him that he wasn't alone.

It was something that tormented him even more than if she _had_ attempted to console him with sweet nothings.

Chuck's sight was still fixed upon the wall ahead of him, but his eyes were getting heavy... this time with fatigue. He'd not slept for more than three hours or so during the past 36, and it was only now that he'd taken the time to realize just how exhausted he actually was.

He was fighting to stay awake, but with the feeling of her laying there, nestled against him, everything around him slowly began to vanish-- until the only thing he could see was darkness.  
  


* * *

 

Chuck jolted upwards from his sleep rapidly, looking around the room, unsure as to just how long he'd drifted off for. It wasn't any big surprise that she was gone, really. He knew it was better this way though, and she probably had as well. Seeing her off would have been too painful anyways. Unnecessary.

He sat up, moving to the edge of the cot where he did what he could to gather his thoughts. Everything was a fucking blur though, and despite his best efforts, he could not stop the bedlam that was resounding throughout his mind. All he was accomplishing was making his own head hurt. He leaned over, elbows propped onto his thighs and rested his face in his hands.

And then, for the first time in a long time, maybe even since he'd received the news that his mother had died, Chuck Hansen felt himself legitimately begin to cry. He wept silently, his shoulders trembling visibly as he buried his face deeper into his palms. A defeated, desperate sort of smile worked its way onto his face, knowing that he was helpless to do anything that might curb his pathetic sobbing. Honestly, he wasn't sure that if he had wanted to scream that any noise would have even come out.

It wasn't okay, the way things had ended... but at the same time, it had to be. Being a soldier meant surrendering your life as a civilian in exchange for power. A soldier knows only hate; how to kill-- not how to love. Jazmine Beckett had given him a chance at his humanity again, something he'd thought that he'd, up until now, lost. But in the end, she'd left him.. all because they wanted her fucking brother there and not her. Because of orders.

Part of him had wished she _would_ have fought it, told him to run away with her, somewhere far away where they'd never be found. Or something equally juvenile and overzealous. But no matter how they may have tried to deny it, his place was here. Hers was not.

A week later, her brother, her replacement, arrived at the Shatterdome, being ushered in by the Marshall and Mako Mori. Chuck watched the vet from a distance out of his peripheral vision, rage and disdain churning inside of him at the mere sight of Raleigh Becket. He turned away coldly, looking down to Max and scratching him behind his ears in an effort to supress his anger.

Herc merely observed his son for a few moments before his gaze faltered like always and he re-busied himself with his work.

Somehow, he was back to where he had been in the beginning. Cold. Alone. And full of hate. Maybe everything had just been a beautiful illusion. A self-frabricated oasis in the storm.

No... she'd been someone important to him. Someone... _irreplaceable_. And because of that, he could never forgive her for leaving. Not ever.

His gut told him he would never see her again.

_And he never did._


End file.
